


For Your Eyes Only

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, BDSM, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Chastity Device, Cock Cages, Lingerie, M/M, Nudes, Strap-Ons, Sugar Baby Shiro, Sugar Daddy, Sugar daddy Keith, Top Keith (Voltron), Trans Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-24 08:08:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17096996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Shiro sells his pretty face on Instagram to help pay the bills but when one mysterious user kkogane wants to give him attention he finds he may not have to work so hard.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I became obsessed with the idea of sugar baby Shiro a few days ago and then Axel got thirsty so here we are
> 
> I always add tags, please check back frequently

In the middle of Shiro’s coffee table is a perfect replica of the IGF-Atlas built to scale and painted by professional hands down the smallest detail of the American flag plastered inside the front window. Beneath the Atlas replica is a black cloth to keep the stand from scraping the faux laminate wood of the cheap IKEA coffee table he scrounged from a yard sale for twenty-five cents. The table came with a busted leg but he’d managed to superglue it back into place. The table is like a metaphor for the apartment he calls home, busted and fixed by the most jerry-rigged means.  
  
Shiro tries not to put any identifiers in the photos he takes while uploading them to Instagram.  
  
Living in the social media age, Shiro learned quickly a pretty face can make a lot of money by simply holding up a product and typing a few crap sentences about how the product changed his life. He hasn’t reached a point with his work where he could afford to live anywhere but the place he lives in now, considering his monumental, crushing IOU’s to the government dressed as student loans. A degree in astrophysics had him bussing tables at the local coffee house and whipping up drinks he could pretend resembles the Orion belt, while his dreams take him somewhere beyond the stars.  
  
Except, they’re only dreams and his reality exists somewhere between being just above the poverty line and right beneath well-off. He can make his rent from selling photos on Instagram for a few hundred dollars a pop but he also knows people who make millions, so he’s not really sure how much of the word successful he can write beneath his name on a resume.  
  
The latest product he’d been sent in the mail is a highlighter he’d been coveting for a while and only scored the deal because he knew someone who knew someone who knew someone important. He has a camera which isn’t the best but it also isn’t the grainy resolution of the days of MySpace, so he sets it up in the dining room which is located next to the bathroom and angles the picture just so – his rules being to never identify any personal belongings and make it seem as if he has his life together.  
  
Shiro sets up the video to unbox the new highlighter and do a few swatches to see if the product works or not. The one thing about reviews he’s learned – if he’s being paid to review the product, he’s also being paid to lie.  
  
“So, I got this new highlighter,” he starts out and tries to appear as excited as he feels inside. Sometimes, people say he’s too dull and, sure, he has a pretty face but a pretty face isn’t enough to keep people clicking. “And I’m excited to try it out. Um, the brand is from this new company called Altea Designs and I’ve been dying to get my hands on this particular color. They only sent me one because these are actually huge, so, it’s definitely worth the price when it comes to product ratio.”  
  
The other thing he’s learned about making videos and product reviews is edit, edit, edit. Sometimes, it can take him hours to make one video and even longer trying to cut down to the good bits and cut out the crap he doesn’t want to show to the many users of YouTube and Instagram. Shiro stumbles over a few more lines and decides to give up attempting to write a sonnet for the highlighter in favor of simply using the product by taking photos of swatches and then eagerly applying it to his cheekbones for a selfie.  
  
He always takes photos in front of his living room window, the only saving grace of the entire space and uses the small tripod he’d splurged on for Christmas last year to achieve the best angle. The highlighter – Space Princess – glides smoothly onto his cheek and accentuates the perfection of the cheekbones he’s fairly certain are God’s way of apologizing for dealing him a rough hand in life. Shiro spends three hours taking the perfect photo and discards hundreds before finally landing on an acceptable portrait which combines the correct lighting, facial expression, and gleam of the product.  
  
The next part of the social media game is coming up with the correct tags and caption which takes another hour. Four hours later, Shiro finally manages to upload the photo in hopes he’s managed to land the correct viewing time. Social media is a game harder than any other he’s ever played but he stretches out on his couch to wait for the hearts and comments. The first like comes from the company itself so at least he has a seal of approval there. The next batch comes from his regulars, and then he’s surprised to see a rogue comment land on the photo.  
  
**kkogane** – _beautiful_ __  
  
Shiro feels a frown tug his face. Usually, comments on his looks are not something he frowns on but he’s never seen this name before and when he clicks on their profile their Instagram is completely empty. The bio only says Keith and nothing more. No photos, no info, just a name.  
  
Keith.  
  
An onslaught of notifications flies in shortly after the first photo of Keith commenting and liking his photos, going back as far as last year. Apparently, he has a new Instagram stalker. Shiro pushes weird thoughts aside and goes about his business until he notes a new message from the mysterious kkogane.  
  
**kkogane** – _hi_  
  
**shirhoe** – _uh hi_ __  
  
**kkogane** – _sorry to insta-stalk you or whatever I just really like your pictures_ __  
  
**shirhoe** – _oh thanks : )_  
  
**kkogane** – _I’m Keith_ __  
__  
**shirhoe** – _hi I’m Shiro_ __  
  
**kkogane** – _I know ; )_ __  
  
**shirhoe** – _right_  
  
The exchange is clunkier and more awkward than the time he pretended to be eighteen on an adult website when he was only thirteen in a cry for much needed attention. Shiro puts his phone away in favor of going to wash his face and put the highlighter with the rest of the growing collection. The bathroom, barely bigger than a closet, doesn’t have enough room for all of his highlighter dreams so he has no choice but to store the containers under the sink and hope they aren’t ruined by a leak.  
  
**kkogane** \-   _hey, sorry to be a creepy stalker but do u have a PO Box?_ __  
__  
**shirhoe** – _uh no I don’t, why?_ __  
  
**kkogane** – _oh : ( I saw you made a video wanting a few things from Sephora I was wanting to purchase them for you and send them your way but I understand if you don’t want to give out your personal address_  
  
Keith, probably a nobody from the internet living his mother’s basement and jerking off to hentai porn, wants to buy him products from Sephora just because he liked a few of his photos. Red flags immediately raise and he debates on blocking Keith from being able to send him messages again even if some of the comments he left are worded and packaged nicely into confidence boosters.  
  
**shirhoe** – _dude I don’t even know what you look like_  
  
**kkogane** – _oh lol sorry I forgot I don’t have any photos on this thing I just got it to comment on my friend’s art and then I was scrolling and found your page I can send you a selfie if you want?_ __  
  
Usually, seeing a face isn’t a big deal to Shiro since most of the faces he’s sent tend to be a huge turnoff and if he invites the chat for photos, he may end up receiving a few choice images of genitalia he has no desire to see. Of course, one single unsolicited dick pic would definitely make him hit the block button so hard he’d probably bust the screen of the outdated iPhone he managed to score from a Facebook market deal.  
  
**shirhoe** – _selfies only_  
  
**kkogane** – _oh sure man I don’t send THOSE kinds of photos without asking first_ __  
  
“Sure,” Shiro mutters while he grabs a bubblegum Dum-Dum from a plastic bowl leftover from the Halloween stash. The candy is tacky but he pops it into his mouth regardless to start sucking it down to a crunchable bite.  
  
There is a pregnant pause before a photo pops up and Shiro feels his gut clench and his tongue attempt to climb right out of his throat. Keith’s face is pretty in a rugged, romance cover sort of way, surrounded by black locks, his mauve gaze outlined by thick, dark lashes most women in a certain economic bracket pay way too much money to implant. A rough scar burned into Keith’s cheek is the only flaw but even the scar is faded to make the mark a part of what makes him so beautiful.  
  
God must be playing him.  
  
**shirhoe** – _that’s really you?_ __  
  
**kkogane** – _yeah? Sorry if you think I’m ugly lol_ __  
  
**shirhoe** – _you’re not ugly dude_ __  
  
You’re perfect, Shiro thinks and presses the back of his fist into his mouth in complete distress. Keith is the kind of beautiful he wants to package and sell for thousands of dollars so he can finally live his life the way he’s always dreamt of living – in luxury.  
  
**kkogane** – _oh thanks >> any way I’ll stop bothering you, can I send you a gift card instead? Do you have an email address? _ __  
  
**shirhoe** – _yeah it’s t.shiro@gmail.com_ __  
  
**kkogane** – _cool. Can I send you a Sephora gift card? Or would you rather have something else?_  
  
Why did pretty boy Keith want to send him a gift card when they’ve only been speaking for a grand total of thirty whole minutes? Either Keith is looking for something Shiro isn’t selling or he’s too gullible and nice for his own good. Shiro is betting on the former.  
  
**shirhoe** – _look if you’re expecting to get like naked pics in return I don’t do that_ __  
  
**kkogane** – _what??? No! I just wanted to get you something since you seemed to really want it. You can review it in a new video or something plus you look like you deserve to be pampered on occasion_ __  
  
**shirhoe** – _so no strings?_ __  
  
**kkogane** – _no strings_ __  
  
Shiro mulls over the prospect of receiving a twenty-five dollar gift card to Sephora since he’s sure this guy has no idea how much anything actually costs. If nothing else, he can settle for Sephora’s brand of highlighters and buy a couple of different shades.  
  
**shirhoe** – _ok that’s fine then_ __  
  
**kkogane** – _great : ) ttyl?_ __  
  
**shirhoe** – _going so soon?_ __  
  
He says it as a joke but Keith quickly types back.  
  
**kkogane** \- _I have to go to work : ( but after work I can chat if you want_  
  
Shiro rolls his eyes and makes mental plans to block this guy once he receives his free money. He has no time for desperate men looking for companions even when the desperate man is as gorgeous as Keith. He’s not their mother.  
  
**shirhoe** – _sure_ __  
  
Shiro closes out of Instagram and waits to receive an email notification about a gift card even if he doesn’t have high hopes. The email comes not even a minute later and Shiro eagerly swipes it open. Keith Kogane  has bought you a gift card!  
  
The email contains a code and a printout if he wants to take the card into the physical store which Shiro plans on doing with his day off. He’s only really purchased highlighters from the store a few times and even then he’s only really been to an actual Sephora once. He buys products on a budget or prays for them to be sent in the mail but free money is free money.  
  
Shiro uses the number listed to call and check on the balance of the card since the email is extremely cryptic on how much he has to spend. The automated voice is dull in his ear but Shiro keys in the barcode and waits for the robot to tell him he has a minimal amount to try and work with.  
  
_Balance: Five hundred dollars_ __  
__  
He replays the message again because surely he’s being punked.  
  
_Balance: Five hundred dollars_ __  
  
Five hundred dollars – not twenty-five, not fifteen, not five – five _hundred_ dollars. Shiro pulls open the chat between himself and Keith, fingers hovering over the keyboard to start demanding questions and answers from the mysterious Instagram user but he pauses, maybe it’s best not to look a  gift horse in the mouth. If some stranger wants to give him five hundred dollars to spend why should he say no? He’s earned this five hundred dollars. Sort of. Maybe.  
  
He really hopes Keith doesn’t expect anything in return. Mainly he hopes Keith doesn’t expect suggestive photos because while Shiro doesn’t mind taking photos for any potential dating material in his life, he doesn’t put out for free. Not even for a five hundred dollar gift card to Sephora.  
  
The call of blue boxed macaroni and cheese, some off brand monstrosity pretending to be Kraft, calls his name even though the siren’s call of the mall quickly follows. Having never shopped a Sephora for anything except taking a quick pass over their clearance section, Shiro realizes he’s drifted into deep water and he isn’t sure how to swim. Asking a friend comes to mind, but he’s unsure of Lotor’s busy schedule.  
  
→ _hey do u want to hit the mall with me this weekend?_  


He dares to send Lotor an invitation anyway, even if he’s not entirely sure Lotor is going to associate with him these days. They went to high school together and quickly fell into similar fields but unlike Shiro, Lotor had managed to make a quick name for himself online because he knew the right people. Part of him had always hoped Lotor would bring him up by the coattails but Lotor also sold a lot more than his pretty face to climb the ladder of success. Shiro wasn’t so desperate.  
  
← **when?**  
  
→ _I’m actually off Saturday_  


← **Hm, ok sure. What time?** **  
**  
_→ Noon?_  


**←  ok I’ll meet you there**  
  
_→ Ok : )_  


Telling Lotor he’s in the possession of a high dollar gift card will only open the ugly door for questions he doesn’t feel like answering so he decides to leave the information out of the equation. He reopens Keith’s chat and opens up Keith’s profile again. The same selfie he’d sent through DM is now on his profile as the lone photo. Greek tragedy levels of beauty exist in one singular photo but Keith has no followers so Shiro decides in a rash decision to double tap Keith’s lonesome picture and click the follow button shortly after.  
  
The next action he blames on being completely delirious from knowing he has five hundred selfish dollars to spend.  
  
**shirhoe –** _I hope you have a good day at work. Thank you <3  _ __  
  
The little heart is completely unnecessary since he is neither Keith’s friend or his boyfriend but what’s a boy to do when he’s a little lovestruck by dollar signs? The Dum-Dum hanging from his plump lips crunches through his teeth when he bites down and shatters to give one last burst of artificial flavor and teeth rotting sugar.  
  
Five hundred dollars just for being pretty on Instagram.  
  
Maybe God is trying to apologize for ruining his life so early on or maybe he’s finally winning the genetic lottery. Either way, Shiro is a fan of the new position Keith has placed him in like a well-played game of chess. He has to wonder, where will this new blossoming friendship lead and what prizes exist at the end of a Swarovski encrusted rainbow.  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  Meeting Lotor in a trash-strewn parking lot surrounded by would-be social media influencers is by far the most ironic thing Shiro has done in a while. Lotor pulls up in a car as white and stunning as his long hair. He steps out of the car drenched in clothing from foreign brands Shiro has never even heard of and probably cost more than most car loans. Seeing him, standing amongst the strewn McDonald’s French fries, used condoms, and empty beer bottles are like watching Adonis attempting to figure out the ways of mortal life.  
  
Lotor approaches him with his hair tied up in a bun and he shoves legitimate Gucci sunglasses onto the top of his head as the sun has long since disappeared. “Shiro,” he greets with fake warmth.  
  
They hug but it’s the kind of hug one gives to somebody they hate but have no choice but to coexist with. Lotor used to be just like him but now Shiro knows he consorts amongst godly men and women. The fact he even dared to come back to his hometown and flit around the mall is something akin to a miracle.  
  
“I’m surprised you even showed up,” Shiro says while they walk arm in arm inside, the automatic glass doors immediately whisking open to take them inside a brightly lit department store with overpriced everything.  
  
“You invited me, it would have been rude not to,” Lotor replies evenly. Lotor lives by some unspoken honor code Shiro has never been able to completely deduce but he supposes it’s better than living a life of complete debauchery without some form of moral compass.  
  
“I need to go to Sephora,” Shiro says while they enter the main strip of the mall, full to the brim with teenagers on cell phones, fathers sitting in chairs, and middle-aged women guiding their children on leashes while they debate if their lives have sunk low enough for caramel chunky highlights.  
  
“What do you shop at Sephora for?” Lotor asks in surprise. “I’ve never seen you in makeup.”  
  
“I wear highlighter in photos,” Shiro replies with a shrug. “I’ve never really had anything else but I was hoping you could help me. You have experience in that field.”  
  
“We’re completely mismatched skin tone wise, I won’t be much help.” Lotor compares their arms together with Lotor being beautifully darker skinned and Shiro’s paler – _white passing,_ people claim as if appearing white should give him more POC brownie points– skin a vast contrast.  
  
“You can at least help with brands,” Shiro replies.  
  
Sephora stands like a beacon for wistful teens carting four dollar Starbucks drinks, middle-aged women spending on their husband’s credit card, and the occasional lost boyfriend who is trying to pick out a decent gift for a girlfriend or mistress. The white walls usher them inside to be immediately assaulted by a sales rep who spews into their specials for the day – _3x points on fragrance through the weekend only_.  
  
“Can I help you find anything?” she continues after her sales pitch.  
  
Lotor shrugs and disentangles from Shiro’s presence to walk over to the Lancome sign and leaving Shiro to fend for himself in a sea of Chanel and Urban Decay.  
  
“Uh…” Shiro trails off slowly. “I have a gift card.”  
  
“Oh? Okay.”  
  
“It’s a digital one but it hast his scanner thing-.”  
  
She nods. “We can accept digital gift cards with the barcode, that’s no problem. What kind of products are you wanting to buy today?”  
  
“I only know highlighters,” he admits with a casual shrug. “It’s the only thing I use.”  
  
“Are you looking for any particular brand or are you someone who likes to try a little of everything?”  
  
“I’ve been wanting to try a lot of the… I guess… _better_ brands.” Shiro snorts at the admission since most of the palettes he owns are from the local drug store except for a few he’s received in the mail for product reviews.  
  
“Well, we just got in a new line from Altea Designs, have you heard of them?”  
  
Shiro nods and follows her over to a large display with beautiful pristine, white shelves lit in a soft blue light. Each highlight palette showcased for purchase. _Moonlight, Space Travel_ , and _Daylight_ are the coveted three sets Altea put out this year along with their individual pieces.  
  
“Wow,” Shiro whispers as he wraps gentle fingers around the Moonlight palette like a soft prayer and flips it over to review the colors within. They’re all shimmering whites, pearls, pinks, purples, and silvers. The packaging alone is enough to flip all of his personal switches with its sleek iridescent blue and holographic lettering.  
  
“Have you used these before?”  
  
“I just received Space Princess in the mail,” Shiro replies. “It went on nicely.”  
  
“I personally _love_ them.”  
  
The price tag is small and almost out of sight which is probably why they’re able to sell them so fast – people don’t realize how much they’re about to put on their little plastic cards until it’s too late. Fifty-three dollars per palette but Shiro picks all three of them up into his hands and does mental gymnastics to calculate how large of a dent he’s placed into the gift card. The digital present is like gold and Shiro wants to treasure it like a personal stash for as long as he can because he has no idea if the honeypot is already dry.  
  
“Did you want anything else?” the girl asks. “I’d be happy to show you around.”  
  
“Um.” Shiro drops his eyes down to the palette and turns to find Lotor and eventually spots him being pampered by one of the stylists. He rolls his eyes to meet Mary and Jesus before turning back to her and offering a kind smile. “Thank you for your help, I think I can handle it from here.”  
  
“Sure. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”  
  
Shiro nods and slowly approaches Lotor where he’s being treated like a live human swatch. “What are you doing?” he asks.  
  
“We’re testing,” Lotor replies smoothly. “Did you find what you wanted?”  
  
“For now,” he says. “I’m ready.”  
  
“Then go pay for your items, I’ll wait.”  
  
“Please, remind me why I’m even remotely friends with you,” Shiro grumbles as he goes to stand in line with the rest of the plebeians sucked into the makeup vortex of Sephora. In front of him is a girl trying to swipe her card but the machine is either giving her trouble or she’s being declined. Shiro notes the multiple bags she has sitting on the counter waiting to be taken home and used.  
  
“ _Daddy_ ,” she whines into the void and Shiro startles when a man who is not old enough to be her father but certainly older than her approaches and pulls out a credit card so black Shiro wonders if he needs a permit to use it. He swipes the card and the machine stops being angry and the associate hands over the mile long receipt.  
  
“Come again,” the cashier says and then turns eyes on him.    
  
Shiro snorts as he approaches with a roll of his eyes. “Some people have all the luck,” he mutters and the cashier immediately nods in agreement.  
  
“Wish I had a sugar daddy to buy me whatever I want, whenever I wanted. I want that kind of power over a man.”  
  
Shiro nods in agreement and his wires never cross as he holds up his phone for the gift card barcode to be scanned. The purchase goes through and he takes the bag containing his three new loves. Altea Designs may not be paying him to review their products but that won’t stop him from tagging them in photos and videos. Since they’re a new brand, Shiro can only hope he can land some kind of deal just for being good looking.  
  
“Ready?” Lotor asks after he approaches.  
  
“Yeah. I’m hungry.”  
  
“Same.” Lotor links arms with him and then peeks into the bag. He gasps as he lifts up the Moonlight palette. “I’ve been wanting to try this.”  
  
“Well, go buy yourself one,” Shiro replies and takes the palette back before Lotor steals or ruins it.  
  
“Tell me how it is first. I got an email from their CEO the other day. She wants to send me some of their new products but I haven’t decided if I want to try them or not.”  
  
Lotor has more deals than a Rite Aid so Shiro isn’t completely shocked when Lotor says so casually he may pass down a deal.  
  
“Well, if they need someone you could always give them my name,” Shiro suggests even if he knows it’s a longshot. As soon as Lotor knows he’s looking to score, he’ll snatch up the deal and pretend he always wanted it in the first place.  
  
“Takashi Shirogane, looking for a deal, hm? What happened to space and astrophysics?” Lotor asks and Shiro doesn’t appreciate the lilt to his tone as it’s bordering on mocking.

“You know as well as I do that degrees don’t mean shit anymore,” Shiro mutters as he thinks on how they both used to look to the stars. “We’re told to go to school, you’ll get a good job, but I clean tables at a coffee shop and make lattes all day.”

“People will at least always want lattes,” Lotor points out but the sentiment is still bitter – spend hundreds of thousands of dollars for a piece of paper and then spend the rest of your twenties earning minimum wage.

They walk to the food court and split off while Lotor goes to feed himself something green and Shiro finds the most fattening and cheapest option. He doesn’t have enough money to blindly spend on healthy food and the only reason he’s able to stay fit is due to the ten dollars a month sacrificed to the gym. Shiro orders something claiming to be tacos but distinctly resembles grease and shit piled on a piece of flatbread disguised as a tortilla. He pulls up to a plastic table waits for Lotor to return with something vaguely healthy.

A salad.

Typical.

“You do know that’s probably less healthy than what I’m about to shovel down,” Shiro says but Lotor ignores him in favor of dumping two packets of dressing on the wilted leaves.

“At least this looks like food, I have no idea what you’re eating,” Lotor replies while scrutinizing the tacos with a wrinkled nose. “And I don’t want to know either.”

“Trust me, I don’t either.” Shiro shoves the taco into his mouth and despite its appearance of being lower grade than dog food the taste is alright and he finds the tacos extremely filling. He may not need to eat again until tomorrow. “So, how did you afford those palettes, anyway?” Lotor asks finally dropping the question Shiro had been waiting for since they left Sephora.

“Oh, uh, some guy sent me a gift card.” Shiro shrugs the whole transaction off as if he hadn’t been bought by a stranger on the internet.

“A guy sent you a gift card?” Lotor asks and his tone is somewhere halfway between disbelief and impressed.

“Yeah, his name is Keith. I was gonna ghost him but then I found out how much was on the card.”

“How much?”

“Five hundred,” Shiro says with a shrug so cavalier he almost believes himself.

“Does he want you to put out?” Lotor asks immediately. To be fair, Shiro did have the same thought.

“I don’t know but I already told him I’m not into that and he said he wasn’t looking for anything like that. He thought I was pretty and he saw a video of me wanting some shit at Sephora.”

Lotor snorts. “Lonely old bastard.”

Shiro is tempted to show Lotor the picture of Keith on Instagram but he’s still not one hundred percent sure it’s a real picture and he doesn’t need Lotor telling him he’s been duped. “Probably,” Shiro replies. “But I’ll wait to see if I can get anything else out of him before I bounce.”

“Smart. I do that all the time.” Lotor plucks the back sunglasses off of his head. “These? Got from some poor sap in Tucson.”

“One day, I’ll be like you Obi-Wan,” Shiro teases which brings a real smile to Lotor’s face.

“You just have to know how to work the system… Give them just a taste of what they want. Maybe a little nip slip, a panty shot, and then after you get what you want, you ghost.” Lotor plops the sunglasses back on his head. “Simple and easy.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He has no intention of selling any bit of his body but he supposes he’s been blessed with a good one so he should probably put it to work.

“Ugh, this salad blows. I’m going for cheese fries,” Lotor grumbles before disappearing from the tabe as quickly as he arrived.

Shiro regards the last bit of the tacos and knows the sludge won’t feel as good coming out as it did going in but at least he can go home full and wait to see if Keith holds up his end of the deal. He’s only slightly embarrassed to be looking forward to hearing from Keith when for all he knows Keith is a fifty-thousand year old man with saggy tits and a small cock.

Shiro isn’t a praying man but he finds himself asking God for one favor anyway

_Please, let him be hot._

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

The message comes in during an hour anyone over the age of fifty would consider indecent. Shiro pauses in brushing his teeth and glances down to see who had sent him a message on Instagram and upon seeing kkogane feels his heart leap through his chest.

 

 **kkogane** _\- hey sorry it’s so late well idk what time it is for you but for me it’s late but i just got off work : (_  

 **shirhoe** \- _oh hey that’s cool it’s late here too but i’m an insomniac so it’s whatever_

 **kkogane -** _did the gift card come in ok?_

 **shirhoe -** _yeah! Thanks again, um, did you really mean to send 500?? Not that i’m ungrateful i’m just confused_

 **kkogane -** _lol yeah i meant to_

 

Keith replies so casually Shiro isn’t sure what to do with this kind of information. Clearly, Keith must be playing some type of game because people don’t just give out gift cards with a high price tag without wanting something in return.

 

 **shirhoe -** _look, i really appreciate you buying me something so nice but i’m not sure what you want from me?_

 

All men want one thing and one thing only – an all paid for, exclusive trip to his ass, but Shiro has never been one to put nudes up as collateral. He’s never even been comfortable taking nudes or posing naked. Even alone in his own apartment, Shiro tries to always have at least one piece of clothing on.

 

 **kkogane -** _I don’t want anything from you?  I’m sorry if I’m coming across as creepy or weird I can leave you alone_

 **shirhoe -** _No it’s ok! I was just… I’m confused I guess. I’ve never had someone want to get me something this nice but not want something in return for it. I just feel weird accepting a gift so nice without offering something back? You’re sure you don’t want something? Like idk_

 

Shiro pauses and stares at the keyboard for a moment before trying to wrap his brain around the idea of finishing this sentence. Sending a nude to a stranger on the internet isn’t something he wants to do but there is a level of obligation to be felt when receiving a gift of such an amount. Maybe, _one_ photo would be okay. Maybe even two photos if it lands him another gift.

 

 **kkogane -** _I really don’t need anything in return, Shiro, just talking to you is a privilege_

 

A privilege.

 

 **shirhoe -** _because I’ll send you a photo if you want in exchange_

 **kkogane -** _a photo? There’s lots of photos of you on your profile lol silly_

 **shirhoe -** _like a_ _photo_ _u know? Like a nude?_

 

The message flips to read but it is not followed by dancing dots indicating Keith is replying. The message goes unanswered for so long Shiro can feel his eyes growing heavy even though his anxiety is quickly peaking. Either the question drove Keith away or he’s fallen asleep - maybe Keith really does expect nothing in return since he’d be the first man Shiro’s ever known to fall asleep at the prospect of a few dirty photos.

 

 **kkogane -** _I don’t want you to feel obligated to send me private pictures of yourself_

 

Keith finally replied and Shiro slowly lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He has no idea why he’s so keen on keeping Keith in this chat – maybe it’s because he finds Keith interesting or maybe it’s because he’s as shallow as Lotor and only wants a few more squeezes before blocking Keith on all platforms.

 

 **shirhoe -** _You seriously want nothing? You must be a saint or bored. Are you actually Santa Clause? Because if you are, I want a pony and a rocket ship and I want a bf and I want rent money and I want to stop constantly questioning why I’m a failure_

 

The little dancing dots immediately appear and Shiro waits for Keith to send a message. The waiting game turns into over five minutes, so he returns to his bathroom routine of brushing his teeth, using the skincare regimen he’d managed to scrounge from the dollar store, and curls up amongst an army of stuffed animals he’s collected over the years. The running joke amongst his friends being when he finally has a partner, they’ll have to have their own bed because there won’t be enough room for Shiro, his partner, _and_ the stuffed animals.

 

 **kkogane -** _You’re not a failure - I want to put the stop on that kind of thinking right now. Maybe you think you are because you haven’t used your degree or because you’re looking for something more in your life but the fact that you can make people feel so positive on your account means you are not a failure. Breathing, living, doing means you are not a failure. After my father died, I laid in bed for weeks on end, I didn’t get up, I couldn’t. I felt like a complete failure because I couldn’t clean my room, I couldn’t see my mom, I didn’t want to do anything or see anyone ever again, I just wanted to stop existing but a friend came over to finally help me after being worried. I told them I was a failure and they looked me in the eye and said I wasn’t a failure. Just because I was down about the shitty hand I was dealt, didn’t make me a failure._

_So I want you to know you are not a failure at all. I know we don’t know each other very well so these words may sound completely hollow but I mean them._

_Also, unfortunately, I am not Santa Clause so I cannot bring you a pony or a rocket ship. But if you need a little help with your rent, I can help with that._

 

Help with rent.

Keith, a stranger from the internet, really coming in clutch and wanting to make his month a little simpler. The prospect of having someone pay his rent for the month means he doesn’t have to work as hard and pick up extra grueling hours at the coffee shop this week. It also means he can unsnap the metaphorical buttons around his life for a little breathing room. He could buy groceries.

 

 **shirhoe** \- _that’s really nice of you but it seems like a lot_

 **kkogane -** _do you have a paypal? Is it your email you gave earlier?_

 **shirhoe -** _yeah it is_

 **kkogane -** _ok : ) i have to get to sleep but if you ever want to talk my number is 602-444-1100_

 **shirhoe -** _thanks_

 **kkogane -** _no pressure. Have a good night, beautiful <3 _

 

Superficial comments do not usually turn his innards into a butterfly gymnastic team but he traces his thumb across the word _beautiful_ repeatedly while he digests the digital compliment. It’s foolish to treat Keith’s words as important as a significant other’s since Keith isn’t one but when a guy offers to pay rent, buys a five hundred dollar gift card, and doesn’t ask for anything in return?

 _Send him a nude_ , the smallest inkling of a thought tickles the back of his brain.

The room is dark but Shiro sits up to turn on the bedside table lamp, casting dramatic shadows across the bedroom. With a quick setup of the tripod and his phone, Shiro dares to pose on his knees on the bed, shirt half lifted, shorts partially pushed down to show the top of his soft dick, and the lamp casting backlighting behind him. He takes a few photos and shifts his hips a few times to allow the light to catch a glint of the silver studs in his nipples. The piercings had been a twenty-first birthday gift to himself after his grandfather died; the only way to beat the depression had been to act wild and young for the first time in his life.

An impulsive decision but Shiro didn’t regret having them done since now they were going to be his weapon of choice when strangling more items out of Keith’s wallet. The next twenty minutes send Shiro in a mass deleting and re-shooting until he finds a photo he likes well enough to send to Keith’s phone number.

 

_→ Hey, it’s Shiro, I hope you accept this as a consolation prize for being so nice to me :) Just please don’t upload it anywhere. Please. I trust you._

 

Maybe trusting a stranger with a suggestive photo is a foolish endeavor since the last time he’d entrusted a man with nasty photos he’d almost been run off of Instagram. Shiro shudders as he remembers sending the photos while completely drunk, eating his own cum, and showing off a limp, wet dick. They’d quickly been spread on Instagram before being flagged, along with his own personal account, and after leaping through nightmarish hoops, Shiro vowed to never send nudes again.

Until one Keith Kogane made him a little hard with the size of his wallet.

 

← _Wow._

_← You’re beautiful_

_← Thank you and I saved your number I hope that’s ok?_

→ _Yeah ;) Good night_

_← Good night_

 

Shiro stretches out amongst his stuffed animals and realizes too late he’d sent Keith a photo with identifying objects – like his embarrassing collection of plushies he’s gathered over the years. Not to mention his bed despite it be lit weakly by tungsten backlighting. Some men have a plushie fetish, so Shiro can only hope Keith is maybe one of them or he was too distracted by the suggestive pose to notice the multitude of eyes staring in the darkness.

_I can’t believe you just wished a guy on the internet you’re slightly into has a plushie fetish._

Delirious, sleep-deprived laughter bubbles out of his throat while he feels his eyes tug down like heavy curtains. Dreams of diamond encrusted white sports cars and flashes of white hair float through his mind in an unending spiral for the rest of the night.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
Morning comes with a rotten taste of dry mouth and a cotton tongue from lack of hydration. Shiro regards his tired reflection and wonders what Keith or any of his followers could ever see in him. Bags under his eyes the size of fallen meteorite craters, the scar across the bridge of his nose, and an obscene zit right in the middle of his forehead. Shiro groans and slowly leans in to inspect the red monstrosity and can see it’s swollen and tender.

 _That’s what you get for buying dollar store skin care_.

The sound of his phone buzzing draws his eyes over to finally check notifications. He’s turned off notifs for Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook because the onslaught, while not Lotor proportions, is enough to be tiring, but he notes there is an email notification from PayPal.

_Someone sent you money._

With a quick right swipe, Shiro opens the email and jumps into his PayPal account. The service in the bathroom makes everything load slower than anywhere else in the apartment but eventually, the account appears, revealing more zeros than he ever expected to see behind a one.

$1,000.00.

The shock of seeing so many dollars in his PayPal almost makes him miss the name attached to the donation. _Keith Kogane_ is emblazoned next to the one grand deposit into the account. A bubble of laughter erupts out of his throat and he slams a hand across his mouth to strangle the delirious sound. He isn’t sure which is more humorous – Keith believing he lives in a place where he would need a thousand dollars to cover rent or the fact that he now has enough to cover rent for two whole months.

Working minimum wage at a coffee shop means he never sees more than eight hundred dollars in a paycheck at a time after taxes and he’s never had his bank account higher than three digits. Lotor used to joke in high school he wanted his bank account to look like a phone number and Shiro always thought it was a good sentiment to live by. Lotor is out there living the dream by working his ass off and Shiro is being given free money just because his pouty, wet lips look good wrapped around pieces of pink candy.

Shiro screenshots the PayPal account and sends a text out to Lotor.

 

→ _I think I may have accidentally gotten a sugar daddy_

 

He transfers five hundred to his bank account to be used as rent money while his fingers open up a web browser and his fingers type the word _lingerie_ into a search bar before his mind can catch up to what his fingers are doing. Keith gave him a 50% tip so Shiro feels slightly obligated to repay him back in kind. Plus, if a little artistic nip and cock shot brings in five hundred dollars, what would a full on photoshoot bring him?

Lotor’s name pops up while browsing and Shiro opens the message with a smirk twisting the corners of his mouth.

 

← _what the fuck who gave you that money? The same guy who gave you the gift card? Where do I get me a lonely guy with too much money in his bank accnt??_

→ _His name is Keith. He’s hot too_

← _Pics_

→ _No you’ll think he’s lying to me_

_← That’s because he probably is you fucking idiot_

 

There is no reason to continue to play into Lotor’s hand so Shiro ignores the rest of the conversation in favor of returning to scout for a good set of lingerie that won’t leave him bankrupt. There are many shops for women but Shiro has no idea how to size himself for women’s lingerie. He may not find anything to fit across his thick chest without help.

He’s knee deep in lingerie websites when his eyes fly to the time and he realizes he’s about to be late for work. “Fuck,” Shiro gasps before flying back to his bedroom to find a pair of clean work pants and a shirt. Laundry would have to happen soon and he wonders if he should save some of Keith’s money to buy several rolls of quarters but there is no time for pondering when being late could land him in an unemployment office.

He doesn’t have time to call for an Uber so Shiro throws on a pair of running shoes and starts jogging from his apartment complex to the coffee shop six blocks down. As he runs the buildings improve and the clear class division begins. He passes shops they would literally laugh him out of and winds his way through a group of women with the same platinum blonde haircut they probably spend one of his entire paychecks to achieve. These are Lotor’s people – the rich, fabulous, and glamorous. The kind of people Shiro longs to be a part of but somehow always lands on the outskirts, a nose pressed against the glass, begging to be let in.

He wonders if Keith is one of these kinds of people.

“You’re late,” comes a voice deeper than the Marianas trench and more disappointed than his parents when he came out as _homosexual_.

“Sorry,” Shiro pants while trying to dry some sweat off of his shirt so he can look semi-presentable for working with the public.

Antok, his manager, looks a lot like a cross between an MMA fighter and a really pissed off bus driver. Antok stands with his arms folded across his chest and an unimpressed face while he regards Shiro pulling on his apron and trying to fix the disaster of his sweat soaked and wind blown hair.

“Is that all you have to say?” Antok asks. “Sorry?”

“What would you like me to say?” Shiro argues. There is no time for real disciplinary action and Shiro has never been late for a shift in the past. Not to mention, with the holiday rush and being down one worker, Shiro knows Antok won’t fire him. At least, he hopes Antok won’t fire him – if he loses this job, he really will have to start selling his body on the internet for cash.

“Get to work,” Antok grumbles so Shiro takes the opportunity to rush out front to fall in line with his co-worker Matt.

The throng is already like ravaged teenagers attempting to be first in line for an Ariana Grande concert so there is no time for pleasantries. Matt nods once and then Shiro takes over register so Matt can jump on making drinks. There are so many people, Shiro doesn’t really process anyone’s faces until a man with dark hair steps up to the register wearing a decent, high collared, black leather jacket, hair pulled back into a high ponytail with long bangs hanging down around high cheekbones which could easily cut through glass.

The scar slashing over his cheek makes Shiro’s stomach drop right out of his ass.

“Can I get a large black coffee, please?” the guy asks as he approaches, digging around in a wallet which Shiro immediately notes has a flash of green from a wad of cash bigger than most stripper’s nightly hauls. His voice is raspy and quiet, like a cigarette right after sex.

Shiro wants to take Keith’s order – he’s absolutely one hundred percent sure this is Keith – but he’s lost all control and feeling of his hands and arms. Keith finally looks at him but there is no flash of recognition in his eyes or face which Shiro is only half disappointed about. He doesn’t exactly look like his photos at work – not with his bangs pushed back by a headband and dressed in his work drab. The only identifier would be the scar but it can blend into a sea of beige in the shop’s light.

“Uh- y-yeah,” Shiro finally stammers and finally manages to ring Keith’s order through. “Uh–.” He trips over his own voice and feels a lump try to regurgitate its way back out through his teeth. “What’s your name?”

“Keith.”

_Oh my fucking God._

Well, at least, he really is hot and looks even better than his picture.

“K–Keith, sure.” Shaking hands pick up a cup, knocking down several others in the process, but he manages to scribble _Keith_ onto a cup before accepting exact change.

Keith says nothing else, takes his receipt and stands off to the side to wait on his coffee.

The transaction is fast but Shiro can’t feel his nose or fingers by the time Keith’s named is called and he walks out of the shop. Panic lives in his breast like a wounded bird and he barely makes it through the rest of the rush without running into the back to vomit. By the time the coffee shop door closes, leaving only a few people behind at tables, Matt is turning to face him, breathing hard from the rush, but the look on his face tells Shiro all he needs to know.

“So,” Matt purrs. “Which guy was a one night stand that doesn’t remember you?”

“ _What_ ?” Shiro gasps as he finally starts to regain feeling his in his hands and face. Keith is a real person and not only is he hot but he’s _young_. Younger than him, Shiro is sure.

“You started to flake out when that motorcycle leather dude came in – so, was he a one night stand or something?” Matt asks and Shiro pinches the bridge of his nose.

“ _No_.”

“Just having a classic Shiro gay panic moment?” Matt continues. “Because you haven’t had one of those since you saw that guy in the glasses. Adam, right?”

Adam, the Ex they do not speak of, is not who he wants to think about right now so Shiro shoots Matt a look to send him six feet under. Matt holds up both hands in defeat while he starts wiping up the mess they’d made during the madhouse rush.

“Seriously,” Matt says. “Did you have sex with that guy or something?”

“Not technically,” Shiro whispers.

“What does _that_ mean?”

He thinks back to the almost nude, inappropriate photo he’d sent to Keith and is extremely glad Keith either has an excellent poker face or he hadn’t recognized him at all. The more alarming thing is knowing Keith is living in this area. He’s in this state. He’s in this _county_.

“It means I sent him a lewd photo the other night,” Shiro whispers and feels shame eat him all the way down to the bare bone.

“Whoa, _what_?” Matt gasps and steps closer so they can have a whispered conversation. “Did he recognize you?”

“I don’t think so. He didn’t say anything.” Glancing once to see if Antok is lurking, Shiro pulls out his phone to check to see if Keith had sent him a text in reference to this accidental in-person meeting.

Goose egg.

Not even a _good morning_ text– not that Keith _owes_ him a good morning text.

“Have you met him before this?” Matt asks.

“No. I honestly wasn’t even sure if he was really as good looking as his photo on Instagram. He just started to talk to me and he sent me a gift card to Sephora. _Five hundred dollars_.”

Matt’s eyebrows shoot up to disappear behind dusty blonde bangs. “You’re joking.”

“And _then_ I woke up to him having sent _one grand_ to my PayPal because I commented on not being able to afford rent this month– he didn’t even ask me how much I needed, just sent over one grand like that’s how much I needed.” He runs a hand over his face in distress. Maybe he’s playing a dangerous game by allowing this man to hold money out for him like a carrot on a string and ease him along. He could easily be a serial killer.

“Man,” Matt says and blows out a long puff of air. “Wish I was hot like you.”

“You’re hot,” Shiro argues.

“Yeah but I don’t got some random on the internet paying my rent, either,” Matt replies with a shake of his head. “You gonna tell him you saw him today?”

The consequences for telling Keith he saw Keith in person were potentially monumental so Shiro shakes his head. “No,” he replies. “Unless he brings it up himself, I won’t say anything.”

“What happens if he’s actually a regular and finally recognizes _you_?”

Shiro pauses and suddenly wishes he had an addiction to nicotine so he could have a reason to step outside “I have no idea.”

Matt pats his shoulder and returns to work. “That’s rough buddy.”

Matt is always right and Shiro hates it but they only have a brief window until it’s back to the grind. He would have to deal with the Keith crisis later.

 

* * *

 

→ _I hope you had a good day today, Shiro_

 

The message from Keith had been sent to his phone at 6:55 PM and currently, he’s been staring at the text from the past three hours. It’s five ‘til ten and he has no idea what to say because his nerves are holding his texting abilities hostage.

 

← _I just worked lol_

_← Sorry I just got in_

 

A lie but Keith doesn’t know it’s a lie.

 

→ _Oh hi : )_

_→ Well, I hope it wasn’t too grueling_

 

What kind of job did Keith have to allow him to carry around thick wads of cash and sport black credit cards and send one thousand dollars to a PayPal account of someone he doesn’t know. Whatever Keith does, Shiro wants to sign up immediately.

 

← _I work retail so yeah_

 

If he tells Keith he works at a coffee shop, there is a real chance Keith could put two and two together and he doesn’t want to be caught in the treacherous web.

 

→ _Aw, man, that sucks_

_→ Did you get the money I sent earlier? PayPal deducted it but I just want to be sure it went through for you_

 

Shiro takes a deep breath to steady his next sentence.

 

← _Yeah I got it. You don’t play, do you? 1k??_

_→ You said you needed rent money_

_← lol it’s cute you think I need 1k for rent or maybe it’s depressing for me idk_

_→ ???_

_← I live in a shithole lol I wish I could afford a place that cost me 1k a month_

_→  Oh, well use the rest of the money to buy yourself something nice :)_

_←  What? You don’t want a refund?_

 

The last question is a joke but he’s not above sending the extra five hundred back. Maybe it would be better so he doesn’t become used to the idea of Keith paying his rent every month.

 

→ _No I sent you the money as a gift so please keep it, Shiro_

_→ Just get something you’ve always wanted with it, don’t put it toward bills. If you still need help next month with bills, we can cross that bridge when we get to it_

 

We.

As in the two of them.

Keith assimilating into his life like a well-sewn zipper is either sweet or creepy and Shiro can’t decide how he feels. He sets his phone down to take a moment to breathe. He’d jokingly called Keith his sugar daddy to Lotor this morning but with the way things are lining up, Keith really does seem like a sugar daddy. If it looks like a sugar daddy, talks like a sugar daddy, and acts as a sugar daddy, Shiro guesses this makes him a sugar baby.

 

He’d never meant to sign up for the sugar bowl but here he is winning the game without even realizing he’d signed up to play.

 

_← You a sugar daddy or something? You sweet like this to all the guys? Lol_

_→ Just you_

 

What the fuck is he supposed to say to _that_? The panicked bird in his chest returns with a burst of feathers and beating wings. He wants to cut it free but he can only drag in slow breaths through his nose and try to keep from simmering right into a panic attack.

 

← _Just me, huh? Lol why am I so special? You don’t even know me_

_→ I’m trying to rectify that. Again, I’m sorry if I’m coming off too strongly, please, just tell me and I will leave you alone. I do not want to overstep or offend you at all._

 

Keith is polite which isn’t helping Shiro’s crisis. If he’d been an asshole, he could have ghosted by now but _asshole_ wouldn’t even be near a list of adjectives for Keith. His politeness is almost borderline frustrating.

 

← _You’re too nice man lol Kinda wish you were a dick, I could have ghosted by now_

_→ I’m glad you haven’t_

_← So can I ask what you DO to get this much money to throw around or were you born lucky?_

_→ My Uncle is the CEO of Marmora Technologies. I work for him._

 

Shiro blinks and has to take a moment to process this information. Keith’s uncle is the CEO of Marmora Technologies, the prosthetic company. They do more than prosthetics but when Shiro visited the company at twelve years old, he can still remember being completely terrified while his grandfather held his hand, and told him things would be better soon. 

“ _They’ll give you a new arm, Takashi after your surgery. I know you’re scared but I’m right here with you_.”

 

← _Marmora Tech like the prosthetic company?_

_→ Yeah_

_← What do you do for them?_

 

He tries to keep the conversation going while he also attempts to stall his brain from having a stroke. Keith is related to the people who’d given him a second chance at life and while the knowledge shouldn’t freak him out, he’s on his way down Panic Attack Lane which lives right across from Depression Boulevard. They’ve been friends ever since his teen years.

 

→ _I do art and design for the company. I’m mostly self taught but I take night classes so I can get a real degree._

_← Wow that’s so impressive_

_→ Lol it’s mostly because my family is a fucking disaster when it comes to promotional material and branding. They used to have someone contracted but they since went under and so they realized the only other person they knew that had any idea how to actually make logos and design websites was me. So here I am lol_

← _and your job pays for all of these things?_

_→ No ha I live off of a trust fund and the job is just supplemental contractual work_

 

Trust fund kid. Must be nice.

 

← _wow i wish lol_

_← how old are u anyway?_

_→ 23_

 

Shiro blinks at the age and has to think really hard on his own age for a moment. Keith is twenty-three and has more success than he has at twenty-six, soon to be twenty-seven in February. Well, that’s depressing.

 

_← wow lol I feel old now_

_→ how old are you? You can’t be that much older than me?_

_← 26 I’ll be 27 in like 2 months_

_→ Oh, you’re not that old_

 

This he knows but society has placed an expiration date on his success and he feels as if a ticking time bomb is strapped to his chest and ready to go off by the time he hits thirty. After thirty, according to the world, everything goes downhill and there’s absolutely no more room for you at the top. Replaced by people prettier and richer, Shiro knows he needs to make a statement now or he’s never going to make it.

 

← _yeah lol I guess_

 

There is a moment Shiro prepares to tell Keith he has a prosthetic from his uncle’s company but isn’t sure if the information is relevant. It sits down in a chair in Shiro’s mind and won’t go away but his attention is no longer hyper-focused on the chair so he lets it exist in the same room for now. Maybe, if they take this relationship further, Shiro will tell Keith his story. But not tonight.

 

→ _It’s late, I should be going to bed and you too!_

_← Yeah ok good night :)_

_→ Good night, Shiro. Remember, buy something you want. That’s an order, got it?_

 

He can almost hear the words in Keith’s raspy voice and Shiro feels a shiver travel down his spine. Keith’s voice is the kind he wants to hear read the phone book. The kind of voice that could sell magazines to a blind man and the kind of voice Shiro wants to hear whisper in his ear all of the dirty things they could do together.

 

←- _Yes Sir_

 

Keith clearly has an authority kink so he has faith the final text will send Keith into a little tizzy which is enough to make Shiro do his nightly routine with a smile plastered on his face from end to end.

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/xenogl0ssia)


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